


Footballer's Wife

by sapphireswimming



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bullying, Casper High (Danny Phantom), Filming, Friendship, Gen, Gen Work, Pre-Canon, School, Techno Geek Tucker Foley, Tucker Appreciation Week (Danny Phantom), Ultra Recyclo Vegetarian Sam Manson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:55:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26415262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphireswimming/pseuds/sapphireswimming
Summary: In which Tucker becomes Casper High's resident camera man.
Relationships: Tucker Foley & Sam Manson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Apricity](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24083149) by [sapphireswimming](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphireswimming/pseuds/sapphireswimming). 



> Originally posted here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11089009/1/Footballer-s-Wife
> 
> A "songbird AU" created from a tumblr ask game. The prompt from jointheeggvolution randomly picked the song _A Footballer's Wife_ by Amy MacDonald out of my music library to form the basis of the AU. Hence the title, which otherwise doesn't describe the fic at all
> 
> Written for Tucker Appreciation Week
> 
> There are a few more sentence-fics from this AU in chapter 35-36 of [Apricity](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24083149/chapters/58005967)

"Mr. Foley," Lancer began, somewhat helplessly as he stared down at the portfolio in his hands.

"Yes?" Tucker asked, twirling a mechanical pencil in his hand. "Is it… not what you were talking about?"

"No, no," Lancer reassured him quickly. "This is definitely the sort of thing I was asking for in the assignment."

All traces of worry seeped out of the teenager. "Sweet."

"And this is all very impressive," the teacher added.

Tucker grinned. "Thanks."

"But this is…" Lancer waved to the file splayed out on the desk in front of him, looking for the right words to say. "This is far beyond what you needed to develop," he settled on, flipping between pages. "This is a full plan with a business statement and budget and… the scope…" he spread his hands.

"I don't know why you spend this much time on a single assignment when the effort would have more than covered all of the things you haven't bothered turning in up until this point," he coughed meaningfully.

"Yeah… right…" Tucker tried to look remorseful but mostly failed because he pressed, "But… this works, right? I mean it makes sense?"

Lancer looked through the folder again. "Yes," he admitted. "Yes, this is very detailed and accurate I see no reason that this would not make a successful business plan as it stands now."

Tucker flipped the pencil away into one of the many pockets of his cargo pants and leaned forward. "And if I decided to continue with it as a school project, I'd have access to school resources, right?"

Lancer mused. "I suppose that, yes, as an extension of an assigned project, we would be able to lend you certain support…"

"Awesome!" Tucker said, bolting straight out of his chair. "Thanks, Mr. Lancer!" he added hurriedly as he grabbed his file and darted out of the room.

Now he just had to convince his parents that this was a worthy cause, one for which he was willing to sacrifice a few outdated PDAs and even his standing preorder of the next few generations to see fulfilled.

All he needed was a single camera and he was in business.

* * *

In the end, it turned out that he didn't need to cancel any of his PDA orders after all.

Lancer, intrigued by his student's proposition and the opportunities that it could bring the school, explored the old, dusty A/V closets and stumbled across an outdated but perfectly serviceable camera that he decided the school was willing to sell.

Tucker's parents made up the small difference after he had sacrificed a few beloved but largely unnecessary models he'd planned to hoard until the apocalypse had come and gone in order to get the bulk of the funds he needed to relieve Casper High of their old tech.

Suddenly, Tucker was the owner of a beautiful high definition video camera.

He carted it around with him wherever he went. Teachers soon became accustomed to the sight of the guy unslinging it his shoulder as he sat down at his desk.

Classes weren't worthy of the wasted battery life, but if he wanted a free path to class, all Tucker needed to do was pull the lens cap off. The students parted before him like the waters of the Red Sea, footballers pounding fists together, band geeks waving awkwardly, girls giggling when he tried to zoom in as much as possible on their flawless smiles, and gestures that he would have to blur out later from the school lowlifes.

Footage detours cancelled out any time saved from not being jostled into the wall during the between-period rush, but at least his personal space bubble was intact and he wasn't shoved into any lockers.

Everyone respected the camera.

It came out at pep rallies, official school functions, and group presentations in select classes. It recorded school spirit during football games, basketball games, and cheer leading practices. Lots and lots of cheer leading practices.

Within a few weeks, he'd scored a decent editing suite on his computer and become fairly proficient in the ins and outs of the program, easily splicing together footage from around the school into a few sample videos that he burned to a disc and handed to Lancer at the end of class one day.

The man took it home, wishing that it had been the homework he'd actually assigned instead of a DVD, but he watched it dutifully and called Ishiyama for a consultation the next day.

The school board was easily persuaded to appoint Tucker the official documenter of school life. He negotiated a nice sum as a free lance cameraman and editor and was guaranteed airspace during school functions and fundraisers. Plus streaming on the school's website as long as he wanted to continue providing footage.

Tucker grinned as he signed the necessary agreement and release forms.


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn't quite everything Tucker had thought it might be, though.

It was all well and good covering the local news and getting to be a hotshot with a camera around school. Getting out of class during the occasional big event was a definite bonus too.

He'd even met Lance Thunder a couple times and Harriet Chin when she passed through town. They'd both praised him for his initiative and drive and quick learning curve and he beamed.

But about two months into the gig he realized that Amity Park was a really small town.

He'd always known that it was small but this was the first time understanding just how small it was even for a small town. There was nothing to cover.

Literally nothing. to. cover.

The major news stations regularly resorted to covering boring personal stories and extra long segments for the weather in order to fill their slots. Tucker finally got why Lance Thunder was actually a big figure in Amity Park news.

Safety precautions that his parents were prudent enough to put into place and waivers that the city refused to let him sign prevented his covering any potentially dangerous events like the occasional fire alarm.

And car accidents were just morbid, even if ambulance chasing were a feasible option for a kid who was supposed to be in school for most of the day.

Beyond that, there was no crime to speak of in the town.

One time, he looked into a vandalism case on school property and announced on air that it was Dash's handwriting. He'd know it anywhere, recognizing from grading the football player's pop quizzes a couple too many times in class.

Tucker had had to squint through a black eye to read the thank you letter that arrived from the police station the next week.

And he decided to never do that again.

He had learned his lesson.

But the incident had also placed him firmly on Dash's bad side and anyone who got on the King of Casper High's bad side was there to stay for all eternity (or graduation, whichever came first).

Avoidance tactics were only so helpful in the crowded school. Tucker managed to steer clear of him just long enough to think that he might be getting the hang of survival when Lancer passed along a memo from the school board. Which requested more segments on the football team.

As team captain, of course, Dash's word on the field, and, therefore directing the camera and the camera's operator, became law.

It was impossible for Tucker to get away and, while the camera might be sacred, the bespectacled face behind it was not.

* * *

Tucker found a groove as he spent more time behind the camera. He instinctively picked up on camera angles that he'd never been taught and actually voluntarily spent time pouring through a cinematography textbook his mother had found somewhere, putting names to some of the techniques he was using and introducing him to a few he might not have thought up by himself.

The editing came easier too, and he knew his way around the programs, whipping up short videos in about as much time as he used to spend not procrastinating on homework. That was barely touched these days except for what was absolutely necessary for passing classes.

His status as resident camera man did mean that teachers cut him some slack. More slack than he ever would have imagined, if he ever offered to film something for them, actually.

That plus the credibility in the halls and the increasing paycheck almost made everything else worth it.

Every segment he filmed made Dash grow in popularity. Which meant that he had more followers avid enough that he could sic them on Tucker whenever he felt like it.

Not that the teachers noticed. They were too smart to keep giving black eyes. But he went home with bruises or after wedgies more often than not. It was a vicious cycle.

Tucker consoled himself by breaking up the monotony with more features on the cheer leaders of the school.

He knew they didn't really have anything important to say to fill up airspace and that if they'd started dating one of the football players the week before without anyone telling him before he wiggled his eyebrows a bit, he would be in a world of pain soon.

At least they looked really good while they said nothing. And he was technically getting paid to do it.

In essence, getting paid to be bullied by an increasing contingent of Dash's followers and if that wasn't ironic, he didn't know what was. Probably shouldn't have skipped out of English earlier but, well, too late now.

Ishiyama had asked for a meeting to discuss the possibility of reopening a defunct sister website, rebooting it to serve as a streaming internet TV for the school and the town. The principal wanted to clarify that he would be able to make videos in high enough quality for it to be a realistic venture. He said it would be no problem whatsoever.

She explained that they needed to draw up release forms for privacy and publicity and whatever else the legal department decided upon in order for him to use footage of his fellow students for something so public. But within a few weeks, everyone should have signed and returned the forms so they could have a green light to proceed with anything they wanted to do.

One teacher had already planned to have finals projects take up screen time in an effort to motivate his students.

It sounded like a good idea, at any rate, although Tucker's footage was still the only thing being submitted at this point.

But the streaming site meant that if he ever had any problems sleeping, he could go online and watch footage of football practices and a kid in an oversized, overheated raven mascot costume.

Tucker preferred the cheer leaders.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam Manson leaned back at her desk and stared at the student across the room with narrowed eyes. She didn't know how to feel about the black kid who'd started carrying a camera around with him wherever he went.

On the one hand, it was impressive the lengths to which he had gone to start up his business and get to the point where he monopolized the filming industry at Casper High. Especially for someone with no ties to the theatre department and the remains of whoever had been running the A/V section back when they had existed in the school. When the place had been deemed important enough to warrant filming any of it. If such a time had ever existed.

She had to admit that it was impressive, a simple technogeek taking on an assignment like that and turning them to his benefit, getting his handiwork displayed online with the school's permission. Blessing even.

At the same time, however, why on earth he chose to use that influence and power and airtime to let Paulina say absolutely _nothing_ when there were real issues out there that they could be addressing was beyond her.

Did he not know what opportunities he was wasting?

She could inform him.

Did he not care?

That would be impossible to rectify.

Or did he just not have any other options at the moment?

That was a very real possibility, given the material he had to work with. Sometimes you needed to build a base of support before you could branch off into what you really wanted to do, too.

So if that was his problem, she could supply him with a very long list of issues and causes he could find people to talk about to fill up any number of videos. Any one of them would be a valuable and worthwhile use of airspace.

And so much better than listening to the high pitched whining about makeup and manicures and keeping your hair perfectly coiffed while doing flips. Ugh. Talk about shallow. Paulina could dissolve into a puddle on the football field and Sam would never known she'd gotten anything on her shoes.

Nodding to herself, Sam decided to confront Tucker after class to figure out where he stood on the matter one way or another.

* * *

Tucker was a popular man after class.

He didn't know exactly what it was that had the semi circle closing in around him this time.

It could have been filming the extra special with Paulina. Or winking at Star while she giggled and waved from across the room. Or covering the basketball team instead of a scrimmage football practice.

Wes had made some good shots, though, so that footage was worth it even if Lancer hadn't specifically told him that a spot on the basketball player would be a good idea.

The crowd surrounding him now wouldn't really care what Lancer had suggested. Or anything else that Tucker might say now to try to explain his apparently unforgivable lack of appreciating football.

"Come on, guys," he pleaded, backing up. "I need to get to my locker before English. I'm gonna be late."

"Lancer doesn't care if you're late."

"Yeah, you have special privileges now."

Which, yeah, that was true, but it didn't mean he was allowed to skip class whenever he wanted. Or whenever he was waylaid by football cronies.

He didn't appreciate the fact that they now thought they could manipulate that bonus on his end either.

"Well, you're going to be late," he countered.

"You can say you were filming."

Tucker threw up his hands. "I don't even have my camera!"

"Then looks like we don't have to worry about breaking it, do we?"

Gritting his teeth, Tucker backed up until he hit he wall. He threw up his hands defensively even though he knew it wouldn't do him any good. He had to just wait, bracing himself for when they reached him.

"Hey!" a voice shouted.

Everyone turned to see, not a teacher, but a girl dressed in black and purple, hands on her hips as she stared down the group.

"Yeah, you, you jerks," she continued. "I'm talking to you."

Dash turned around like he couldn't believe his ears. "What did you say?" he asked, thinking it made him look controlling when in reality it just made him look dumb.

"I said I'm talking to you."

"Oh yeah?" he sneered, walking up to get in her face. "I'm listening."

She didn't move. Stared right back at him with piercing eyes. "Tell your goons to back off."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, you numbskull. Leave the guy alone." Tucker stared in shock and everyone else fidgeted at the insult. But the girl wasn't done. "Maybe if you actually paid attention in class instead of coming up with your next plan to corner him between periods, you'd actually get good enough grades that you wouldn't have to rely on your football career carrying you through high school."

Dash's teammates, who hadn't quite known what to do until that point, made disconcerted noises and started advancing on her, the slight to their sport clearly marking her as their new and improved target.

"Hey!" Tucker yelled, getting the attention back on him. "How about we call it quits for today, okay guys?" he offered, hoping to diffuse the tension before both of them got beat up. "And I'll see you on the field later this week?"

"Yeah," Sam said, and the heads swiveled back to her. "But how about we call it quits forever?"

"And why would we do that?" Dash asked with a smirk. "Why would I do anything you say? I'm the King of Casper High!"

"Because," she said with an easy smile. "I know how to topple kings. And I also have steel enforced combat boots and I'm not afraid to kick you until you're kneeling and talking like pretty princess in pink Paulina."

She stared at him for a moment.

"Please tell me you're not so dumb that you didn't understand that," Sam sighed. "I can give you a demonstration if you want," she added loudly enough that the whole group heard her.

The bell rang.

"Alright gang," Dash said as the echoes of the bell finally stopped reverberating against the metal lockers. "Let's go."


	4. Chapter 4

"That's what I thought," Sam spat after them. Then she turned to the boy standing next to the wall. "So…"

"So, thanks," he said truthfully but eyeing her and her nose ring warily.

"Sure," she shrugged. "Football players always need to be taken down a peg or two."

"Yeah," he agreed, straightening up and readjusting his glasses. "What?" he asked as she continued to stare at him.

"Well, you don't ever seem to do it yourself," she said.

He snorted. "Well, I don't have steel toed boots."

"All you really need is a spine," she told him.

Tucker glared at her. "Easy for you to say when you're not the one getting whaled on by the entire football team."

Sam shrugged. "Make them stop."

"Make?" he sputtered incredulously before barking out a laugh. "Make them stop?"

"You're the one with the camera," she pointed out. "You decide what you film and how you do it and what gets shown, man. That means you get to dictate a few terms."

He looked at her curiously. "And what terms do you think I should dictate, Saman—"

"Sam," she bit out before she could finish.

"Sam," he corrected.

"I didn't know you knew who I was," she said, eventually.

"Of course I do," Tucker snorted as he leaned down to pick up the bag he'd discarded by the lockers as soon as he realized his predicament. "I know all the girls in school."

"You've certainly asked enough of them out," Sam acknowledged.

"Well, what can I say?" he asked with a grin.

"And I would have though you'd been turned down by enough of them," she added.

His mouth twitched. "If at first you don't succeed…" he quipped with dying humor.

She canted her head. "But you didn't ask everyone."

He looked up at her from the corner of his eye. "Not quite," he admitted, shifting in place.

"I know," she said. "You've never asked me."

"And… I don't plan to," he said slowly.

"Why?" she demanded, bristling. "You think I'm lacking adequate female parts? That I've got too many piercings? Or that I'm too smart to go out with anyone just because they asked so you're saving yourself the pain? Or you think I'm not—"

"Whoa!" Tucker exclaimed, hands up. "Uhh, no, lemme stop you right there if I can," he interjected into her breathless rant. "It's because you scare me," he confessed. "Okay?"

Sam blinked. Visibly backed down. Then grinned. "I wanna talk business with you."

* * *

They walked into Lancer's class together, late enough to earn them a black mark that Tucker didn't even try to argue his way out of. Their detention was spent in adjoining desks, brainstorming what could be done to improve the situation.

The filming situation. Not the being stuck in detention one which didn't seem to bother either of them at the moment.

Tucker pulled his folder out of his backpack and handed it over, worrying his lip as Sam's slender hands flipped through it. She didn't make a sound but turned page after page, leaning forward and scanning each line until Tucker couldn't take it anymore.

"So?" he asked anxiously.

"This is good," Sam said.

A sigh of relief. "Thanks."

"No, like this is really good," she clarified. "You could formally incorporate with the stuff you have in here."

"I could… what?" he stared at her in shock.

"Of course, the first thing that needs to happen is to come up with some alternate sources for your filler," she decided.

"My filler?"

"Please," she began, and he got the feeling that she rarely used the word. "Let's have less football and fewer cheerleaders."

Tucker held up a hand. "Hey, I'm all down for less football. The less I have to film Dash the better, but…"

Sam glared at him, quashing any desire he had to put up a fight for the right of more scantily clad, aesthetically pleasing preppy girls.

"Okay, fine," he huffed dejectedly. "Fine, no more interviews with Paulina," he said before trailing off by grumbling something unintelligible.

"What's that?" Sam asked sharply.

"Nothing," he protested quickly. "I mean, you better have ideas for how to fill up the time I'm producing now. Cause I can't back down on what I'm already doing…" he warned.

Sam smiled slowly, reminding him just why he had been keeping his distance from the girl ever since they started attending the same school. "Oh, trust me, I have tons of ideas."

"Really?" he asked, part of him curious and the other part of him really, _really_ not wanting to know.

"Yeah," she replied. "First thing that's gonna happen is a school wide response to a change in the lunch menu."

Tucker perked up. "Ooooooh," he said. "I could get down with that. Finally get something decent in the cafeteria. So when are you thinking?"

"It'll happen tomorrow. First thing after they announce it, I expect. So you should probably bring an extra battery or two."

"Wow," he leaned forward. "You… already got the board to approve the change? Or you bribed someone to let you make the announcement just to see what happens? See if we can implement a change with some reverse psychology? That's awesome, actually."

"No, it's all set," Sam answered serenely, closing the cover of Tucker's folder and handing it back to him.

"Really?"

"Yep, full recyclovegetarian line starts tomorrow."

Tucker blinked. "What's that?"

"It's organic matter that eschews the products and byproducts taken from animals." When she was met by a completely blank stare, she rolled her eyes and clarified, "I don't eat anything with a face."

"But… cows have faces. And pigs and chickens and stuff…" Tucker said slowly.

"Right, so like I don't do meat."

When the truth finally set it, Tucker gaped at her, unable to even string together words.

Sam started laughing at the look of utter horror on his face, a clear melodic sound that would have surprised him if he hadn't been busy learning the true depths of what it felt like to be well and truly sucker-punched.


End file.
